‘I think your father would probably be more comfortable if he cleaned up,’ she said in a gentle but authoritative voice, and pushed me towards the kitchen. Tom stepped forward and propelled me away with his hand at the small of my back, and before I knew it my papa was being helped (well, mostly carried) up the stairs, and I was alone in the kitchen with Tom.
Tom went to the kettle and started filling it whilst I stood next to the cake on the counter, nervously wringing my hands.
‘I need to take Papa home,’ I said, totally panicked. My brain was completely unable to process Papa in Tom’s family’s gorgeous home. I mean, he’d made the housesmell,and he was so obviously drunk. I wasn’t sure about family Christmas protocol at the Longleys’, but Iwassure it didn’t normally involve a homeless alcoholic invading their living room. I mean, there were children here for goodness sake. (Although, thinking back on it I had to admit that, instead of shocked, the kids – especially of course Benji – looked fascinated.) To my horror I felt the wet on my cheeks and realized I was crying. I rarely cried unless I was alone, but now I’d started I didn’t seem to be able to stop.
Something was building up in my chest; a feeling I couldn’t identify. It was a mixture of panic and despair and loss, and it felt like it was overtaking me and I would burst at any second. My shoulders started shaking and before I knew it I had released a small sob.
Suddenly I wasn’t leaning against the counter anymore. I was crushed against a warm, hard chest, my tears soaking into his shirt.
Rivers and rivers of tears.
I was crying for Papa, who, however hard I tried, I never seemed to be able to help; for Mamma; and for the loss of everything I had with Tom. Thinking of Tom jerked me out of my hysteria and made me conscious of my position. My face was planted firmly in his chest and my hands were clutching his shirt like I was trying to burrow into him. I pulled away. He tried to hold me to him, but I jerked viciously until I was free of his arms, then flew across the kitchen and spun around to face him. Everything was building up and I felt like I was going to explode.
‘I have to leave,’ I gritted out, my arms straight down my sides and my hands balled into tight fists.
‘Frankie,’ he said cautiously, taking a step towards me, but I held my hand up to ward him.
And that was when I lost it.
‘Don’t you think I’ve been humiliated enough today? Are you satisfied now? Have you paid me back enough for dumping you yet?’
‘What?’
‘You bring me here like a bloody charity case to your family, who obviously can’t stand me. You … you confuse me all day with sitting close and your stupid arm at the back of my chair. Then, just to round off the whole demeaning day, you answer my phone to my pissed-up father and give him directions to your house.’
‘I didn’t bring you here to humiliate you, Frankie. I didn’t want you to spend Christmas alone, I –’
‘Pity then,’ I cut him off, throwing my hands up in exasperation. ‘Somuch better.’
‘Not out of pity,’ he said, his gentle voice losing some of its patience. ‘I care about you.’
‘You don’t even like me,’ I told him dismissively.
‘Frankie, don’t –’
‘Oh, you had me fooled for a while you know,’ I said. ‘All that persistence, all that faked interest, making me think my quirks were cute and not ridiculous. God, you’re so unbelievably gorgeous my hormones just did the rest of the work for you.’
‘I didn’t fake anything with you,’ he clipped, his patience now completely gone.
‘Whatever. I bet you’re all delighted to be rid of me now. What a lucky escape.’
‘Of course I’m not glad.I bloody love you!’ he shouted.
I felt the blood run out of my face and I took a small step back. A few seconds that felt like hours passed until I managed to muster a response to his latest outrageous assertion.
‘Don’t … don’t say something you don’t mean,’ I whispered, fear threaded through my voice. ‘You … you said you didn’t care about me; you told me the other day how annoying I can be.’
‘Jesus, Frankie,’ he raked both his hands through his hair and took a step towards me, but stopped when I held up my hand, warding him off again. ‘Why do you always believe the bad stuff and forget the rest? You said yourself what a spoiled brat I am –’
‘I didn’t mean –’
‘I know you didn’t,’ he said softly. ‘I know you said it to push me away. I recognize your dad from that night outside your flat. Why did you think you couldn’t tell me? Did you think it would make a difference to me? I don’t care who your dad is or what he does. It’syouI care about.’
‘You say that, but if we’d stayed together do you think your family would be happy having a cozy Christmas with me and my drunk, homeless papa?’
‘Yes,’ he flashed back immediately, totally assured that this would be exactly what would happen. ‘They love you too, Frankie.’
‘They don’t know me. You don’t know me,’ I said, my voice breaking as a fresh wave of tears threatened. ‘You’re a good man. Your family are good people. I’ve never had …’ I took a deep breath. ‘Gio and Gabriella tried after Papa left and Mamma lost it, but I’ve never known how amazing a real family can feel. None of you deserve someone like me making things … complicated.’
